


One Sordid Night With You

by StellarLibraryLady



Series: Star Trek Incandescent Hearts [46]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bickering, Clueless Kirk, Crew as Family, Dancing, Developing Relationship, Dirty Dancing References, Dirty Dancing Song, Drinking, First Kiss, First Time, Idiots in Love, M/M, Matchmaking, Misunderstandings, Party, Persistent Spock, Sad Leonard "Bones" McCoy, Secrets, Time Of My Life, mysterious behavior, song related
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2019-11-13 12:28:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 19,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18031742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StellarLibraryLady/pseuds/StellarLibraryLady
Summary: McCoy believes that he has hit on a unique way to relieve the tension in his relationship with Mr. Spock.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Knots](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12127026) by [vixensheart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vixensheart/pseuds/vixensheart). 



> This fic was inspired by the summary for "Knots" by vixensheart which reads: "It was supposed to be simple. Just one, sordid night between the sheets. No emotions, no strings attached. But things never do go according to plan, and Garfield and Raven find their lives more tangled than ever before...."

Spock never knew for sure what McCoy might have on his mind, and sometimes he wondered if McCoy sometimes really knew for certain what was going to come out of his mouth next. Spock thought that the attic of McCoy's mind must be a cluttered place indeed, yet McCoy was one of the most brilliant people he knew and seemed to be quite knowledgeable in medicine and science in particular and in useful information in general. However, Spock wondered, did the medic ever manage to process all of his thoughts, though, colored as thoroughly as they were with his easily stirred emotions? Of course, that was some of Spock’s fascination with McCoy-- his unpredictability. But occasionally Spock wished that he had a little more warning about any upcoming illustration of McCoy’s erratic behavior.

Take for instance the morning when the two of them had been returning to their duties after a staff meeting. As usual, they were trailing together behind Kirk as if he was making a general inspection of his domain (which he probably was or thought that he was). He had been waxing poetic about their five-year mission of discovery throughout the universe while running philosophical questions past the two men who could be counted on to give him their honest, and differing, opinions. It was an exercise that Kirk savored. And truth be told, so did his two friends with him. Bickering with each other was a way of life for Spock and McCoy. They both enjoyed the wordplay between themselves very much.

But Spock had noticed that Dr. McCoy had seemed a little preoccupied lately, as if he had something on his mind. In fact, the good doctor had seemed quite distracted, especially today. Spock certainly hoped that McCoy was not coming down with some ailment. Spock liked to win his 'discussions' with McCoy, but only if McCoy was at his top efficiency. It did not count to either of them if they had won simply because the other guy had lost.

Then Kirk had been momentarily called away from their sides.

"Excuse me, gentlemen. Yes, yeoman?" Kirk asked as he turned aside and followed the yeoman for a short distance.

McCoy took the opportunity to turn to Spock and say in a low, cryptic voice to him, “I want to see you.”

Spock, of course, was puzzled by that request. If asked, he would admit that his mind had been wondering about a vague problem in quantum physics which had been plaguing him lately. But his attention was sharply brought back to full-focus by what McCoy had just told him.

“I do not understand, Doctor. You are seeing me now. Are you having a sudden problem with your vision? You were seeing me just fine up to a moment ago. Have you suddenly been struck blind?”

“Literal Vulcan!” McCoy muttered. “I mean, later!” he hissed. “I want to see you later.”

“Are you concerned that your vision will be impaired then, also? Is this some sort of recurring problem with your eyesight?” Spock’s alarm was increasing as he considered possibilities. “Is your vision coming and going on some sort of regular basis? How long have you been aware of this strange phenomenon? Perhaps you should be consulting a specialist. One can never be too careful with one’s vision.”

“I’m seeing perfectly fine!” McCoy snapped. The Vulcan was in a lather. Soon he would be hyperventilating if McCoy didn’t calm him down. “Stop worrying about my eyes! There’s nothing wrong with them!”

“That is a vast relief,” Spock muttered as the alarming dark green color in his face began to fade. His breathing even slowed and he stopped showing signs of an anxiety attack. "I would not have a moment's peace if I thought that some sort of problem was endangering your eyesight. I want you to know that if you were facing such a problem that I would not rest until I had procured a cure for your condition."

"I know, and I appreciate it."

"After all, a threat to any one of our senses is tantamount to life-changing decisions so I can quite understand any worries that you may be facing."

"It's alright. Just give it a rest, okay?"

"It was just startling to learn of the possibility of that threat to you."

“I know, I know. It'll be okay."

Spock looked relieved.

"Ass,” McCoy muttered as he turned aside. Still, it was heartwarming that Spock was so concerned about his welfare. Then he remembered that he had something to say to Spock. “Come to my room,” he hissed because Kirk was showing signs that he may be headed their way again. “Tonight. I want to see you then. Don’t tell Kirk.”

The worry came back to Spock’s face double-fold. “You anticipate problems with your eyesight at that time? And you do not wish for Jim to be alarmed about your vision?”

“It’s not about my eyes, you idiom-challenged, word-twisting hobgoblin!” McCoy thundered. “Why in the blue blazin’ hell do you insist on twisting my simplest statement so out of proportion that not even I can recognize it anymore?!”

Spock was thunderstruck with shame and remorse. “I am so sorry, Doctor. I am simply concerned about your welfare.”

“I know, I know,” McCoy muttered as he bowed his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re a good friend, and I’m a louse for not appreciating it.”

“You are not a lowly form of vermin,” Spock averred stoutly. “And I will demand satisfaction from anyone who states otherwise, even you.”

Kirk looked with amusement from McCoy’s exasperation to Spock’s outrage tinged with ruffled indignation. “Entertaining each other, gentlemen? And what’s this I hear? Is someone planning a duel? Mr. Spock, what has stirred your ire now? I’d rather suppose that Dr. McCoy would be the one to rashly take up the gauntlet if he thought that right was being challenged, not you." He gave Spock his best flirty, lazy smile. "That would be rather emotional of you now... wouldn't it?”

Spock showed his disdain by inhaling sharply which also raised his head up to majestic heights. He knew that he was being gently teased by Kirk, and he would not show any further sign of disapproval since it was Kirk.

“Just a misunderstanding with the use of words again, Jim. Nothing to worry about.” Then McCoy brightened. He saw a logical solution to his problem of getting Spock to his quarters without alarming him or raising Kirk’s suspicions. “Perhaps I can explain it all to Spock tonight after dinner.”

“Wise decision,” Kirk decided. A knotty discussion about the quirks of the English language did not sound like a fun way to enjoy his off-duty hours, and Kirk was going to make certain that he had no part of it. He knew, though, that McCoy wouldn't mind a lengthy session of trying to pound idioms into Spock’s head. McCoy had more patience than he did, Kirk decided. More power to him. After all, their bickering was a defining part of McCoy's relationship with Spock. And Spock would tolerate McCoy’s attempts, even baiting McCoy into thinking that he misunderstood when he sometimes did. Jolly times for his best friends, but not for Kirk. If they were entertaining each other, then Kirk would not feel guilty about spending HIS time pursuing some pretty, young yeomen whom he hadn’t conquered yet.

With a hearty grin, Kirk slapped first the arm of one and then the arm of the other. “I’ll leave you to it then.” He went off with a jaunty step.

McCoy silently cursed himself. Why had he done things the hard way? But as long as the desired outcome was acquired, he shouldn’t be picky with how he had gotten it.

“My quarters,” he barked at Spock. “See you after dinner.”

“I certainly hope that you can see me after dinner, Doctor, and that your eyesight will be giving you no problems at that time.”

McCoy rolled his eyes as he turned away. Give me strength, he muttered to himself but not aloud. Otherwise the Vulcan would start worrying about his overall health and McCoy would never be able to quiet down that Nervous Nellie.


	2. Chapter 2

Spock had to admit to a certain amount of curiosity.

Granted, he hadn’t felt that way at first about the situation involving McCoy's puzzling request. He’d been too concerned about McCoy’s well-being to consider anything further than alarm about McCoy’s suddenly questionable eyesight. Than Spock decided to take his clues about his reaction to the situation from McCoy’s own behavior about it. When McCoy had first approached Spock with his heart-stopping statement (“I want to see you”), McCoy had not seemed to be all that worried about himself. In fact, McCoy appeared to be watchful of how Spock would react to his announcement. It was perhaps a wise thing that McCoy had done so because Spock had felt something just short of complete panic for such a casually stated problem. It was opportune indeed that his own private physician had been present to monitor Spock’s behavior and physical reaction. A lesser physically fit person might well have blacked out with such shocking news coming, as it were, so unexpectedly. How lucky Spock felt that McCoy had been looking out for Spock’s welfare.

But Spock finally had gotten the impression as they talked that McCoy had never been that concerned about Spock's panic about what he had just announced to Spock. In fact, Spock was beginning to think that McCoy had been after some sort of different behavior from Spock and had grown angry when Spock hadn't supplied the appropriate reaction. All that Spock knew was that Earthlings and their emotions and their various shadings of meanings of their words perplexed him greatly. But he tried to understand Earthlings. Oh, how he tried!

Of course, Spock could now understand that he had apparently reacted badly to McCoy’s declaration. At the time when McCoy had first spoken, Spock thought that he had shown the proper amount of concern for his friend’s physical condition. Apparently not. McCoy had grown quite irate with Spock which also alarmed Spock. In fact, McCoy had seemed argumentative, short-tempered, frustrated, and not at all like a man with a debilitating condition that would mean the end of his professional career and life as he knew it. Blindness would land McCoy in a situation in which he could barely satisfy his own basic needs let alone be a viable contributor to society at large. Those prospects would frighten anyone faced with those prospects, but McCoy had not seemed like a frightened man. Angry, true. A man at the end of his patience with Spock, true. But not a frightened man. Far from it.

Why did Earthlings have to be so puzzling to Spock? But he only had himself to blame for being thrust among them.

Part of the reason why Spock had chosen Star Fleet over his own planet’s Vulcan Space Academy was that he had wanted to study these erratic humans closer. The more he learned about them, though, the less he could say that he knew for certain anything about them. No wonder he could not control his own emotions and actions any better than he could. Being part human himself was becoming more of a mixed blessing than he initially thought. If he hadn't been already naturally curious, he might’ve set all of his research aside and returned to an ordered life with his father’s people.

As it was, though, he was committed to being with humans for at least five years. That was becoming a mixed blessing in itself. For he was finding that he appreciated humans as more than just test subjects. He was beginning to like them for themselves. Spock did not know how he really stood on that discovery, because knowing the humans on a personal level meant that he was having to expose his emotions more and more. He was learning about friendship and comradeship and even love from these people. And while he found himself being charmed under the spell of humans, it meant that he was having to extend himself further. While part of him enjoyed interrelating, another part of him tried to restrain himself because he realized that he could be hurt emotionally.

What would have surprised him was to learn that humans put themselves through the same ambivalent battle about relationships. What would have further surprised him was to learn that it was his human side that was ambivalent, not his Vulcan side as he had always thought.

 

So now Spock had to wait until an appropriate moment to learn more about McCoy’s puzzling behavior and his strange request. And it looked as if that opportunity would present itself later this very evening. Spock had learned of their scheduled appointment while sharing their evening meal with Captain Kirk in the mess hall.

“Mr. Spock, will it be convenient for you to come to my quarters in an hour? There's something that I wish to discuss with you.”

McCoy's request, coming as it did in a pause in the conversation, startled Spock as it indeed appeared to have startled Jim Kirk. The captain had been expounding on the prospect of the existence of the pretty females he’d heard were inhabiting a distant pleasure planet and the possibility of the Enterprise visiting that planet something soon. Kirk’s eyes sparkled with anticipation as he waited for his men friends to echo his enthusiasm for the potential company of charming young ladies who were specifically designed to satisfy a man’s every request and fantasy. Instead, Kirk had heard McCoy ask for a private meeting with Spock. 

Kirk was justifiably irked by McCoy's untimely request, and Spock could see it. He rushed to cover McCoy’s social faux pas. “Yes, it will be convenient for me to do so, Dr. McCoy. I know why you spoke when you did. You feared that you would forget your request with the captain’s fascinating description.”

Yeah, that was it, McCoy’s mocking eyes seemed to say back to Spock. Kirk didn’t seem to be won over by Spock’s adroit cover, either.

But Spock kept the pretext going. “And now we can hear more about this new pleasure planet which we might visit sometime in the future.” He turned to Kirk. “Jim? As you were saying?”

“Hmm? Oh. Yeah. The pleasure planet.” Kirk grinned. "Gentlemen, you won't believe what I've heard about it!" He quickly picked up his rhythm again because he knew that people liked to hear what he had to say.

Spock sneaked a look at McCoy and expected to see McCoy fuming at him for making such a messy attempt at covering a rough spot in the conversation. Instead, McCoy was giving him an intense stare with what Spock could only describe as scintillating eyes. McCoy’s lips were turned up with a barely discernible smile, and Spock thought about a satisfied kitten crouched over a half-consumed bowl of cream. McCoy looked like a starving man who was looking at food for the first time in a week.

Spock had the uneasy feeling that McCoy was no longer thinking about charming young women or the delights to be found with them on any pleasure planet.


	3. Chapter 3

Spock was in quite a quandary.

Dr. McCoy had not designated any specific time that Spock should appear at his quarters that evening, and Spock really had no previous guidelines to go by to determine when he should keep their appointment. At any other time when Spock had been inside McCoy’s quarters, it had been either on Starship business or he had been accompanying Jim Kirk on some social occasion. This really didn’t seem to fit either of those occasions, for Dr. McCoy had not specified if this was to be a business or social meeting. And Spock wished that he had, for Spock really did not understand how he was to proceed.

Maybe he should examine other criteria. But since he had no idea about the nature of the business of their upcoming meeting, maybe he should prepare himself as much as he could in other areas.

First, Spock decided that he should be prompt, but not seemingly so.

Good, that made sense, he reassured himself with a steadying breath.

And secondly, he should look presentable. 

Spock carefully checked over his appearance in his mirror. How did one prepare oneself for this sort of function? He took a deep breath and decided that a gentleman should always appear neat, genial, and sociable whenever he was in the company of another gentleman. Good rules for any gentleman to live by. He nodded at himself in the mirror. He was ready for this appointment.

Spock frowned. Or was he ready?

What if the other gentleman were Dr. McCoy? That Earthling seemed to have his own rules of behavior and social graces by which he lived. One moment he could be courtly and charming, but the next McCoy might be ranting and cussing out whomever he pleased.

Then Spock forced himself to relax with an exaggerated huff of held breath as he berated himself for his lack of courage. Come on, he thought. It is only Dr. McCoy. His friend, Dr. McCoy. Someone familiar and known. And trusted. Spock could feel quite safe and secure in any interview with McCoy.

Besides, Spock reminded himself, if anything was too much amiss, he could always leave.

Thus reassured, Spock squared his shoulders and stepped purposely out of his quarters. He was ready for this social engagement.

 

“Mr. Spock! So good that you're here!” McCoy greeted him with a wide smile as the doctor stepped aside and gestured for Spock to enter his quarters. “Come in! Come in! Thank you for being so prompt!” McCoy bounced on the balls of his feet as his eyes sparkled at Spock to show his pleasure at Spock’s appearance.

“I trust that I was not too prompt,” Spock said as he stepped inside. Then he noticed a moment of panic as the door closed behind him as it shut the rest of the universe away from the two of them. He took a deep breath of reassurance.

It is only Dr. McCoy, Spock told himself again as if it were a mantra. It helped to relax him a lot.

“What?” McCoy questioned with a frown. “No! Not too prompt! Not too prompt, at all!” he added when he realized what Spock had said.

Spock wondered why McCoy seemed to be yelling at him. After all, only a few scant feet lay between them. It was not as if yards and yards of distance separated them. At this distance, Spock could even read McCoy's lips quite easily if there was something wrong with his hearing-- which there wasn't. And Dr. McCoy as his physician should know that Spock’s hearing was excellent. So why was McCoy resorting to an increase in the volume of his voice?

Then a new thought struck Spock. Maybe McCoy was nervous about this meeting, too. And that realization calmed Spock right down. That, and reminding himself of his new mantra: It is only Dr. McCoy.

Spock stared at McCoy inquisitively. It was at that moment that McCoy seemed to lose his drive or nerve or something. For all that he seemed to be able to do was to return Spock’s stare with a face that was growing blanker-looking by the moment.

“You asked me here to discuss something with you,” Spock prompted. 

“Oh. Yeah.” McCoy dropped his eyes, unable to explain further because he needed to be careful of his phraseology. He’d just stopped himself from adding that he’d been wanting to see Spock for some time now. But after their last discussions, he realized that he was going to have to stay away from the ‘seeing you’ idiom. But that would certainly make it more difficult to talk. 

Damn it! Why couldn’t the Vulcan ever learn idioms?! What kind of a person doesn’t know idioms?! McCoy felt his face coloring as an old, familiar anger rose inside him.

“Doctor?” Spock asked with worry as he saw the change in McCoy’s face. “Is there a problem? Are you having a health issue?” He paled. “Is your vision giving you further problems?”

Oh, hell, now the Vulcan was going to hyperventilate over his eyesight again! And the problem lay not with McCoy's eyesight, but with his cold feet. But how could he ever explain that one to Spock?

McCoy collected himself. “No, no, nothing like that.”

Spock looked relieved. “That is good news.”

“I just wanted to offer you a proposition.” 

It was like watching wheels turning in Spock’s brain as his puzzled face sorted through possibilities. Then his eyes widened as he looked alarmed at what McCoy might mean. 

McCoy’s face deepened in color. “No, no, not that! Not a proposition. That would be awfully crass and bold of me without any sort of preamble now, wouldn't it? Look, I want to, ah, explain something to you and see if you make the same deductions that I have.” Oh, hell, he’d used the ‘see’ word, but hopefully Spock wouldn’t notice.

Spock didn’t. The ambiguity of McCoy’s general statement had flummoxed Spock completely, and McCoy could read it on Spock’s startled face.

McCoy decided to try again. “Let me rephrase that.”

Spock’s relief was evident. “Please do, Doctor.”

McCoy began to pace with a frown on his face. “You, ah, know that we disagree a lot.”

Well, Spock certainly couldn’t deny that. “Yes, I do.”

“In fact, more than most people disagree.”

Spock, however, could not bring himself to endorse such a general statement. “I am not aware of the accepted norm in conversational matters between a great deal of people, only a few such as those in which I participate or those which I observe.”

“Well, take it from me, you and I disagree a lot. In fact, most people would say that we even bicker a lot.”

“I do not know what most people would say about bickering, either, but--”

“Okay, okay.” McCoy waved him quiet. Generalizations apparently ranked right up there with idioms when it came to Spock's not understanding them, McCoy decided. “Sorry for generalizing. But take it from me, they do,” McCoy finished, hoping that would end the confusion.

But, of course, it didn’t.

“Doctor, I do not understand what you want me to take from you. I do not see anything in your hands that you could possibly be offering to me--” Spock started, then saw the fascinating changes on McCoy's face. Spock thought that he had a good argument, but perhaps McCoy thought otherwise.

McCoy had stopped with a stunned look as all sorts of interesting colors played over his face, and it was at this point that Spock decided that perhaps Dr. McCoy had reached the end of his tolerance for Spock's misunderstandings.

But the good doctor had nobody to blame but himself.


	4. Chapter 4

Then the stunned look on McCoy's face quickly turned to defeat. “Please,” he begged as he squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Please, I beg of you. For all that’s holy, please don’t get us bogged down in another discussion about words!”

Spock looked a little insulted. “I am sorry, Doctor, but you are the one doing it. Not I.”

“I know, I know.” McCoy pulled his head up with a determined look of tolerance on his face. “And I’ll try to do better. Okay?” When Spock didn’t disagree with him, McCoy figured that it was safe for him to continue. “I apologize. But you have to understand that this subject is hard enough to approach the way it is.”

“What way is that, Doctor?” Spock asked innocently, still anxious to please.

Thankfully, though, Spock didn’t also want to know what they were approaching. Instead, he then managed to say something right in the next moment. Maybe that was because of McCoy’s look of thorough defeat on his face. Spock realized that McCoy could take little more of this discussion, so Spock decided to try to reassure him.

“Do not be upset, Doctor, or try to elaborate. Not for me. It is just I. Spock. Your friend,” he remarked, thinking that perhaps a version of his mantra might help McCoy.

And it did. McCoy smiled with relief. “Yes, it is just you, isn’t it? Just you.”

Spock thought that he recognized a rhetorical question and wisely did not answer, although McCoy seemed to be phrasing himself rather simply. Maybe McCoy needed clarification for himself.

“So.” McCoy turned away to begin pacing again. “Back to what I was saying. We disagree a lot.” 

Spock got the feeling that a lot of time had been wasted on confusing chatter, but he also wisely decided not to remark on that observation, either. After all, this was something that McCoy apparently needed to say, so Spock needed to give McCoy the time and attention to say it. It was beginning to try Spock’s patience, though.

“We disagree a lot.” McCoy mulled it over as if he had just heard the words himself. Then he stopped and looked back at Spock. “Do you have any idea why we do that?”

Spock wondered if it was a trick question. But he decided that McCoy’s overall demeanor indicated that McCoy’s objective on this occasion was not to outsmart him in a debate. So Spock would try to be helpful.

“Because our opinions differ? That is why we differ?” Spock offered honestly and hoped that McCoy would not take umbrage with the remark. After all, it was the truth.

“Well, yeah, I suppose,” McCoy answered. “But don’t you suppose that there’s more behind it than a difference of opinions?”

Spock hated to say it, but he knew that he needed to speak for clarity’s sake. “Could you explain that statement further?”

McCoy cast his eyes down. “Well, I suppose that would help. You need more of an explanation from me...." McCoy looked up. "Don’t you?”

Spock let out a small breath of relief. He had not angered McCoy or disappointed him, yet McCoy seemed to understand. Apparently, Spock had found the proper balance for McCoy. “Yes. Please.”

“Could there be something else that is causing us to argue?” McCoy wanted to know.

Spock looked blank. How could he answer? McCoy had a hypothesis to prove; Spock didn’t. So why did McCoy keep asking him questions?

“Look. Spock. I guess what I’m trying to say is that there seems to be some sort of a... tension between us.” He gave Spock a searching look which indicated that Spock should finally realize what he was talking about.

Spock didn’t.

McCoy tried again. “A tension that is causing the friction between us,” he clarified.

Spock waited patiently for more clues.

“Something personal,” McCoy hinted, knowing that should surely make his meaning clear.

But that didn’t help Spock, either.

“Look, I think that there’s something personal going on between us.” McCoy turned away with a sigh of relief. “There. That should explain it.”

It didn’t.

“Ah….” 

McCoy turned back. “Well? What do you say?”

“I do not know what to say, Doctor.”

“Oh, holy hell,” McCoy moaned as he scrubbed his face with his hand. “I swear, if it didn’t mean so much to me--” he snarled.

“What, Doctor?”

“You! You and me! Our relationship!”

“Ah--”

“Oh, forget it! Forget I said anything!”

Spock wanted to remind McCoy that he really hadn’t said anything yet, but wisely held his tongue on that remark, too. He decided that it probably wouldn't help McCoy.

“Please, Doctor, try again.”

That’s the only thing that gave McCoy hope. Spock earnestly seemed to be trying to understand. “Look, I, ah, don’t exactly know what’s going on between us.” McCoy finally looked up and gave Spock a hard look. “But I think that we need to explore it.”

Spock got the uneasy insight that ‘it’ might involve feelings and emotions, things that Spock did not wish to explore. Perhaps he needed to clarify his position about involvement in what Spock considered to be frailties of the human race. “Is that really wise, Doctor?” Spock wanted to know. The conversation had suddenly taken a turn that he did not like. He did not like being on unfamiliar ground.

“I don’t know if it’s wise or not! I just know that it might solve some of these odd vibes between us.”

“Odd vibes? Would you care to elaborate, Doctor?”

“No, I would not!” McCoy calmed himself down. “But I suppose that I’ll have to if I’m ever going to get any sort of closure out of this,” he muttered to himself, wondering why he had even thought about his idea. 

McCoy looked at the man waiting patiently for more information.

Then, when the clarifying words finally came from McCoy, they came too fast.

“This tension that’s between us?” McCoy began. “I think that it’s got a sexual basis.”

Spock dropped his mouth open as his dark eyes enlarged. “You mean--”

“And I think that we should take care of it sexually.”

Spock thought that his eyes would pop out of his head. “You mean?!”

“Yes, Spock! You and me! The big nasty! Down and dirty! And all of the other idioms about sex that you don’t understand! I think that I can make you forget all about language if you just give me the chance! What do you think about that?!”

Spock broke the intense look between them as he turned his head aside. “I do not know. Language skills are important to me. They are uppermost in my communication agenda. I do not wish to lose my ability to speak.”

“Hell, I don’t aim to make a babbling idiot outa you! That’s what you’re supposed to do to me!”

Spock got the startled look back on his face. “I, I do not know if I could do that to you, Doctor. I respect and admire you too much.”

“Holy shit, I’m not offering myself up as a love sacrifice! I don’t want to die happy! I’d intend to survive our encounters!”

Spock paled. “Encounters? There would be more than one such episode?”

“How many times do we argue, Spock? Hmm? Tell me that! Has one argument ever solved anything between us? Isn’t it time that we tried another solution?”

“You want us to, ah, have encounters every time we, ah, argue?”

McCoy suddenly looked very coy. “It would be a lot more satisfying than being frustrated all by ourselves now, wouldn’t it?”

“I do not know about you, Doctor, but I am not encountering any such frustrations.”

“That you know of, Spock, that you know of.”

Spock stared at McCoy’s wily face. Was this what it was to look into the face of the Devil?

Or of temptation?

“I cannot do that, Doctor. Not multiple times.”

“Okay,” McCoy relented. “How about once then?”

Spock looked shocked.

“I believe that you just agreed to once.”

“I did not--” Spock started.

“Oh, yes, you did. Remember back to what you just said?”

Spock ran their conversation over, then paled. McCoy was correct. Spock had said, 'Not multiple times.' Ergo, he had implied once!

But McCoy did not intend to gloat. "Look, I'm not gonna dwell on any victory in semantics. That's not my goal here. Besides, maybe once will be enough. Just think of it, Spock. One sordid night with you and we'll appease all of those nasty, ol' sexual tensions between us. And then all of our bickering will go away. Voila!” he ended with a flurry of French.

Spock did have to admit that there was nothing wrong with McCoy’s logic. Spock just couldn't agree with McCoy's conclusions.

“When would we have this, ah, evening that you are suggesting?” Spock asked without enthusiasm.

McCoy’s eyes shone the way they did when Spock had first entered his quarters. McCoy just barely kept himself from bouncing on the balls of his feet, but his whole posture indicated that he was thinking of doing that very thing. “No time like the present, right?!”

Spock could not imagine anything like that lurking in some unforeseen future for him, so he slowly nodded his head in agreement.


	5. Chapter 5

Spock frowned. “How do you propose we proceed?”

McCoy’s eyes snapped. “Well, first of all you don’t have to act like you’re going to your own lynching! This is supposed to be fun!”

“Fun? I thought that it was supposed to alleviate your sexual frustrations.”

“OUR… sexual frustrations, Commander! OUR! Plural! No numero uno! Ours! Both of ours!”

For a man who had not wished to dwell on semantics just a moment ago, McCoy certainly seemed to be doing so now, Spock decided. First French and now Spanish. Spock idly wondered if McCoy became a muttering Tower of Babel in all sorts of languages during sex. Then he realized that he might be able to learn the answer to that question if he went along with McCoy's plans for their evening. Perhaps it would be an interesting experiment for Spock to observe....

Then McCoy leaped ahead because he seemed to be losing not only patience, but the attention of the Vulcan.

“Come on! Let’s go to bed and get naked,” he announced with flashing eyes.

But Spock simply frowned.

“What?!” McCoy shouted.

“Would it not be easier to disrobe and then lie down?”

“No, I thought that it would be more of a challenge to fight the sheets while trying to take off our clothing while in a prone position!”

McCoy's sarcasm went over Spock's head. “Would we not disarray your bedding through such strenuous activity?”

“We’d tear the hell outa my bed and rip the hell outa our clothes! There'd just be shreds left of everything! It’d look like two apes had been going at it! And we wouldn’t have done anything interesting at all! Unless you consider a good time is doing something the most difficult way possible!” McCoy was so frustrated that he was sputtering. He fought hard to catch his breath. “Damn it, Spock! You sure know how to take the romance outa something, don’t you?!”

Spock wanted to remark that romance hadn’t once appeared in their discussion so far. But he was concerned about McCoy’s erratic breathing, so he tried to divert McCoy’s attention the most logical way possible. It was also the quickest.

“Come, Doctor,” Spock said as turned toward McCoy’s bed. “Let us not tarry any further.”

A huge grin broke out on McCoy’s face as he jerked to comply. “Hot damn! Yes, sir! Now you're talking!”

They both roosted on either side of the bed as first boots and then articles of clothing settled to the floor to puddle around their feet. McCoy’s pile accumulated faster than Spock’s, but he was in a lot more of a hurry than Spock was.

“Yes, sir,” McCoy was saying as he pulled off his black undershirt and dropped it. “I don’t know why I never thought of this sooner! We could revolutionize the study of relationships with this solution! Just imagine galactic opponents going to bed together instead of settling their differences on some battlefield! Why, just think of the countless lives it would save! And everyone would be a damn site happier!” He hooked his thumbs in his briefs and deftly pulled them off his legs. “It puts a whole new meaning to that old song about this being the dawning of the Age of Aquarius! Peace will finally rule the planets, alright! And men’s libidos!”

Spock cringed as he got a mental image of skinny-legged, paunchy old men trying to excite each other romantically. It would be different if diplomats all looked like Thor or Jim Kirk or even Dr. McCoy, but most diplomats didn’t.

“Hell, I might even get some sort of Intergalactic Peace Prize for coming up with this idea!” McCoy muttered as he dove under the covers. “Yes, sir, I can see it now!” He wiggled his toes in anticipation as his eyes shone with happiness. “Leonard H. McCoy! Healer and Humanitarian! Hump your way to Heaven!”

If you’re gonna dream, dream big, Spock thought. He could understand slang if it was aptly illustrated. And this saying was aptly being illustrated for him. Spock had all sorts of images in his mind, none of them good.

“Yes, sir! Stop dying to get to Glory! We'll call it 'Humping With Leonard!'”

Spock cringed again. McCoy’s delusions of grandeur were getting out of hand, even for McCoy. 

McCoy glanced at Spock’s bare back. “Are you still working to get your clothes off?!” he demanded impatiently. “I coulda had them off you a lot quicker than this!”

“I have no doubt that you could do that very thing, Doctor,” Spock muttered as a deep blush and an uncomfortable heat engulfed him when he realized that McCoy was looking at his exposed body. As modestly as a young maiden, he wiggled out of his briefs without raising his naked buttocks so that McCoy would not have that view. 

Whatever was he doing here?! Spock should not be preparing to lie naked with a likewise disrobed McCoy! This was the last thing that he wanted to do with his friend, and he was only doing it because it seemed to mean so much to McCoy.

Then Spock happened to glance down at himself. His genitalia was softly stirring and awakening with interest at proposed activities in the near future. Betrayed by biology as all men eventually are! Apparently, it was just Spock’s turn to Gain Knowledge. So why should he fight it?

With the hand that was nearest McCoy, Spock held the sheet up so that he could demurely pivot himself and then stretched out his legs.

McCoy huffed with exasperation as he watched Spock lie down. “Really? Modest?”

The sheet settled over Spock’s bare chest as he stared straight ahead in martyrdom. “Yes. I prefer it that way.” Spock sounded overly prissy, even to himself.

“May I remind you that I am a doctor and have seen a lot more than you have to offer. Why, I’ve cut up cadavers that still have the science world puzzled.”

Spock turned and gave McCoy a writhing look. “I am not a cadaver, Doctor.”

McCoy gave him a happy grin. “A fact that pleases me to no end, Commander.”

Spock turned away with a huff of his own.

“Come on, what’s your problem? It’ll be fun--”

Spock’s dark eyes snapped at him. “You keep reassuring me of that fact, Doctor.” He turned so McCoy could see his face only in profile. “However, I do not deem this as a ‘fun’ occasion,” he said in his new prissy voice.

“How will you know until you try it?” 

Spock refused to look at him.

“Hmm? Try it, you might like it.”

Spock looked at him with a hard frown. “The prospect of having you crawling all over me and skewering me in the rectum does not seem like much fun for me. I will hurt for days because of your wanton desires!”

“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Who said anything about ME skewering YOU?!” McCoy frowned with dislike. “And where in the hell did you come up with such a brutal term anyway?!”

“That is what you would be doing to me, is it not?” Spock demanded with his dignity thoroughly compromised. 

“Well, yeah. But I repeat, ‘Who said anything about me skewering you?’”

Startled, Spock stared at McCoy. “You mean… that you want me to… for want of a better term… skewer you?”

“Yeah, that was kinda the idea.” McCoy grimaced. “But couldn’t we find a better word for it? What I want ya to do to me?”

Spock shook his head emphatically. “Oh, I could never do that! Not to you!”

“Yes! To me! I want you to make a babbling idiot outa me! Don’t you remember me saying that?!”

“Yes, but I thought that it was just another idiom that you were using.”

“When have you ever heard anyone use that kind of idiom?!”

“I have never claimed to be an expert in the use of idioms.”

“Well, it’s a damned good thing that you never tried to major in it, or you woulda flunked out for sure!”

“Doctor. Please. This is getting us nowhere.”

“You’re telling me. At this rate, this is gonna be the shortest affair in history. Talk about a mood-killer. You might as well get the hell outa here tonight.”

Spock felt an immediate relief. Yes, he had disappointed McCoy, but their relationship was still in tact. And he had not had to skewer McCoy. That prospect still seemed daunting to him.

“Don’t think you’re off the hook, though.”

“Doctor?”

“You just wait until the next time we bicker. Then I’ll want you, right then, right here, right in this bed. And ready for action.”

Spock’s eyes widened. He saw no way out for him. It was not a case of if, but when with them.

After all, they bickered all the time.


	6. Chapter 6

A few minutes after Captain Kirk’s shift took over the bridge of the Enterprise the next day, the turbo lift door opened and Dr. McCoy stepped out. He looked around at the working crewmen as if he was searching for something. Some of the crew glanced back and acknowledged him, as did Kirk. As McCoy's eyes swept the room, they paused to rest on Spock who was bent over his instruments. But Spock had also twisted himself so that he was watching McCoy. When their eyes met, they both jerked their bodies aside and broke the look.

“Bones? Did you want something?” Kirk asked as he gave McCoy a bemused glance. If it was something personal, Kirk wondered why McCoy hadn’t broached the subject over breakfast or asked for a private audience. And if it was Starship business, he wondered why McCoy hadn’t either conned him or immediately approached the command chair instead of acting like he was hunting for something that really didn't exist. In fact, McCoy looked like he really didn't know why he was there. And that raised Kirk's curiosity.

"Bones? Can I help you?"

“Hmm? Oh. Yeah.” McCoy brought himself out of his reverie. “No, no. I was, ah, wondering how, ah, everything was going up here. Any problems?”

“No, just fine,” Kirk answered. Since he didn’t quite know McCoy’s purpose for his visit to the bridge, Kirk did not know how to proceed. “Of course, our shift just started, so we’re all getting used to the feel of her today. But right now, he's handling just like the little lady that she is.”

“Of course, of course,” McCoy muttered, groping for words himself. “That makes sense. Well, glad to see that everything is shipshape. I’m certain that everything will go charmingly for all of you. That should make your shifts easier.” He turned to go, then twisted back as if just remembering something (which he had). “Oh, Mr. Spock, I've been meaning to ask you something for awhile, and it slipped my mind until just now.” No lie there, McCoy thought to himself.

Spock straightened with a cautious look on his otherwise impassive face. “Doctor? How may I be of assistance?”

It might’ve been a polite response, but it sounded as if Spock was grudgingly asking about how much poison he should be drinking to cause the quickest death to himself.

McCoy approached him. “We were recently discussing the logic behind the science of voodoo charms, if you recall. And you declared that there was no scientific evidence behind their power.”

Spock cringed. He barely remembered the discussion of a few weeks ago. He doubted that McCoy would have thought of it now either, if he hadn’t just used the word ‘charmingly.’

McCoy forged ahead now that he’d found a subject to discuss. “I further recall that you said that voodoo charms only worked if the recipient believed that they would.”

“That is correct.”

“I was curious if you had changed your viewpoint on that matter.” He got a playful look on his face. “And why.” McCoy saw Spock’s eyes widen, then narrow. “Come on, Commander. You hardly convinced me that day,” he said softly. “I hardly believe that you can now.” His eyes danced with mischief as they dared Spock to challenge him. “But you are most welcomed to try.”

Spock dropped his mouth open, but visibly struggled to keep himself from retaliating even though it was evident that he wished to do that very thing.

Then Kirk rescued him. “Gentlemen, let us concentrate on Starship business while we are on duty, shall we? I suggest that you discuss theoretical questions during your leisure hours.”

When we will be alone, McCoy’s taunting eyes said to Spock as a grin spread over his face. However this played out, McCoy was going to win. And he knew it. Either an argument on the bridge now or during a private discussion later would get Spock to the heated stage in which McCoy wanted him.

McCoy turned and walked in triumph to the turbo lift. He could wait. Time was on his side.

Spock’s eyes followed him with a frown.

Uhura and Scotty exchanged amazed glances.

Sulu and Chekov exchanged grins.

Kirk knit his brows at McCoy's strange behavior, but decided that it was between him and Spock.

 

McCoy glanced around as he sat down across from Kirk in the mess hall. “Where’s the Vulcan?”

Kirk looked up, just a little annoyed to be drawn away from his love affair with the food on his plate. “Didn’t you see him? He said that he had an experiment that he wanted to check.”

“Well, he wasn’t in the medical lab,” McCoy pointed out. "Generally, I don't know he's around until I practically trip over him."

“Maybe he’s in one of the other science labs. Whatever. He’s a big boy. He can take care of himself. You should welcome some peace and quiet at a meal. I know that I sure could use some,” Kirk noted as he forked a tasty-looking bite and aimed it for his waiting mouth. 

“He shouldn’t be running around, making people wonder about his whereabouts,” McCoy groused.

“Maybe he’s got a new friend that he’s visiting.” Kirk grinned at the annoyance on McCoy’s face. “What’s wrong? Piqued that he has some friends besides us?” Kirk just stopped himself from suggesting that Spock might have a romantic interest with someone. Somehow he got the notion that idea might not amuse McCoy.

“He shouldn’t be missing his regular meals!” McCoy snapped back.

Kirk stared at him.

“Just saying,” McCoy muttered. "Sometimes that damn Vulcan needs a keeper!"

Kirk kept all of his funny remarks to himself. Somehow he knew that none of them would amuse McCoy, either.

 

The next day an enthusiastic-looking McCoy sailed onto the bridge of the Enterprise. Everyone there noted his arrival, McCoy noticed. Even Spock, who looked slightly annoyed, and Kirk, who looked downright curious, were aware of his presence.

“Bones? Is there a problem? Do you have a reason to be here?” Kirk thought that he’d made the hint broad enough the other day that not even McCoy could overlook the fact now that he needed to be here on legitimate business.

McCoy bounced on the balls of his feet. Everyone on the bridge should've taken that as a bad sign. McCoy was up to something.

“I’ve come to observe the crew,” McCoy announced.

“Observe? The crew?” Kirk repeated.

“Psychological evaluations. Required to be done by the C.M.O. of all crew members while on duty.” 

All of the crew on the bridge shifted in their places. This would almost be as bad as getting physicals. They’d feel like lab rats.

McCoy bounced on the balls of his feet again. He was enjoying himself. “To check for stress factors. And, ah, other stuff like that.”

Kirk rolled his eyes and Spock visibly drew his breath in sharply while McCoy continued to smile blandly. And innocently.

“Alright,” Kirk agreed. “But be discreet about it, okay? We’re trying to work.”

“I will be the soul of discretion. You won’t even know that I am here.”

But they did know he was there as he silently slipped around and among them on soundless feet. He stared at them intently until they had to look up. It was worse than having a brass band serenading them.

 

Pleased at seeing his visitor that evening, McCoy stood aside. “Commander. Won’t you come in? What a pleasant surprise.”

“You knew that I would have to be here sooner or later,” Spock growled. He didn't seem to be in the best of humors to be making a social call.

“And aren’t you wise to be making your visit sooner so the suspense will finally be over,” McCoy said pleasantly.

“I am here so that your harassment will stop,” Spock snapped back.

“Now, now, is that the right attitude for a night of lovemaking?”

Spock’s dark eyes bulged. “A night? A whole night? I thought that once would be enough.”

“Do it right the first time, and that might be all I’ll need,” McCoy suggested with a coy smile.

“Shall we get to it then?” Spock thundered.

“Eager boy,” McCoy teased. 

Spock bit his lips together.

“Wanna woo me with a kiss first?” McCoy teased.

The angry lips tightened further.

“Okay, okay. We’ll just skip that part then. We can just get to the main event quicker.”

Spock didn’t dare comment for the anger that he was feeling.

"Oh, Mr. Spock. How I do want you to channel that anger," McCoy teased.

Spock was not the slightest bit amused.

McCoy knew that he was overstepping, but he had waited for this evening for a long time.

Besides, he was wishing that Spock would enjoy it, too. In fact, he was secretly hoping that the Vulcan wouldn't even know what hit him.


	7. Chapter 7

At least this time when they got to the place where they were both lying naked under a single sheet, McCoy didn't kick Spock out of bed in frustration.

"Well?" McCoy finally asked. "I didn't invite you here to stare at the ceiling with me." When he realized that Spock was not going to respond because he might not know how to proceed, McCoy suggested, "Why don't you come over here and get friendly?" When that still got no response, McCoy turned on his side and faced away from Spock. "Fine. We'll try this. Slide over here and spoon me." Nothing. "I'm not giving up until you at least try. You'll find that I can be really tenacious about what I want. I'll keep it up if I have to visit the Bridge every day and embarrass the hell outa you." Then he said something that was guaranteed to get the response he wanted. The injured voice helped, too. "I hope you realize that I'll be very disappointed with you if you won't at least try, and it will make me feel very sad when I was depending on you so much--"

Spock rolled on his side and adjusted himself so that it looked like McCoy was sitting on his lap. The touch of that much naked skin against his own naked skin caused a shiver over Spock's body, but nothing more. He had glimpsed McCoy's naked back as he'd rolled and the sheet had risen. What really bothered was seeing the top of the crack that separated McCoy's legs. Spock did not know if he had the nerve or desire to touch that area, let alone do what McCoy had requested of him.

"There. That's better," McCoy praised. "That's called cuddling. Nice, ain't it?" When that got no response, he forged ahead. "Now, just... touch me and do what comes naturally."

They lay that way for several moments with nothing more happening than Spock relaxed a little.

McCoy feared that Spock had gone to sleep. He knew that he might do that very thing himself if something interesting didn't happen soon. Spock was nice and warm and the cuddling was really soothing. But McCoy wanted more.

"Well?" he finally asked, beginning to lose his patience.

“I cannot get an erection,” Spock complained to the naked man lying on his side in front of him.

“Try coughing.”

“I do not have anything in my throat. That is not my problem.”

“Haven’t you ever heard of coughing to-- Never mind. Here. I’ll rub up against you.” He wiggled his buttocks against Spock’s abdomen.

Spock grimaced. “That is irritating. And vulgar.”

“Hey! I wasn’t the one that dictated that naked creatures should get stirred up by the appearance and proximity of other naked creatures! I’m just a victim of the dictate, and you should be, too! What the hell’s wrong with you, anyway?! What’s so tough about sex?! Most men just THINK about it, or anything associated with it, and they get a hard-on that could knock down small buildings in their path, let alone cleave into someone they’d been wanting to mount! And don’t tell me I’m not desirable!”

“It is not that--”

“Then, what?! Just get on with it! Cough your silly head off if you need to! But get to the damn cleaving! I’m all juiced up and rearin’ to go! I want some action, and I want it now!”

Spock coughed. Then he coughed some more. Finally, he was able to achieve a state that would do McCoy some good. But Spock knew that his throat was going to be sore for several days. Oh, well, forget any discomfort in that area and get to the task at hand, even if he was not in the right frame of mind for this challenge.

McCoy grunted at Spock’s ineptness and insensitivity as his rigidness poked against McCoy's backside, apparently seeking McCoy's entrance between his thighs. “You know it’d set the mood a little bit more if you’d stop that damn coughing and prodding and tried to romance me a little,” McCoy complained. “I didn’t expect you to turn into Casanova overnight, but I was hoping for something more than this. It’d help if you gave me some lovin’ before you started ramming yourself into me.”

“Sorry, Doctor, but there are so many things to consider.”

“Try running your hands over my arms. Not like that! I don’t need a damn massage! Lightly! Lightly! Tickle me. Don't act like you're layering on the wet cement! Yeah, that’s more like it,” he purred as he began shivering in response to the exciting touches. “Wow, you’re a natural! And your lips! Use your lips! Yeah! Like that! Just like that! The back of the neck is great!”

McCoy was squirming all over the place and Spock had to wrestle him around to keep him under control. But Spock was beginning to enjoy his manhandling of the writhing man in his arms. Who would’ve thought that he could pick up these techniques so fast?! He must be a fast learner! This must be what McCoy had meant when he said to do ‘what came naturally.’

“Anytime now, Vulcan,” McCoy muttered. “You’ve getting me stirred up pretty good, but you don't wanna overdo it. I’m ready for what comes next. Don't get stuck at this stage.”

So Spock took that as a clear signal that he could proceed to the next phase, so he did. And he did it easier than he thought he ever could.

As Spock slid into McCoy slick and hot, it took McCoy by surprise and he sucked his breath in with a ragged gasp. McCoy clawed at the sheet beneath him and moaned, “Hmmph!”

Spock paused and frowned with worry. “Doctor? Are you having a problem?”

“N-nothing. Uh… nothing. Keep… keep going.”

Spock pushed forward.

"Sweet Je--" McCoy squeezed his eyes shut and twisted his head from side to side. "Mother of G-- Agh!"

Another stop. “Doctor?”

“’s alright.” McCoy licked at his dry lips, then hitched his breath. "You know, a little lubricant mighta helped. It's kinda crowded in there."

"I am using lubricant."

"Oh, sweet Je--" McCoy moaned, although Spock hadn't thrust. "Just how big in the hell are you anyway?!"

“I am hurting you. I will stop.”

“No! No.” McCoy licked his lips again. “Neither one of us could stand for that to happen. It would shred what's left of my nerves and would probably cause some sort of psychosis in you.”

But Spock was not convinced. “If I do continue, will you be alright?”

“Yeah. Ah. It’s just so much of a good thing. It hurts, but it feels good, too. Know what I mean?”

“But if I am hurting you--”

“Just do it! Damn it! Do it!”

Spock recoiled, but pulling backwards as he did so made McCoy yip in pain, too. “Sorry,” Spock muttered. He could not seem to do anything right.

“It’s okay,” McCoy muttered back, wrung out by pain that had torn him two ways. He fought to bring himself under control. “S-sorry, I’m just wound up now, you know? I’ve waited so long… And then for this really to be happening… And then for it to be hurting so much is almost more than I can handle. But stopping would be wrong, also.”

“I am sorry, too. But I do not know how to proceed that will please you, but not hurt you.”

“Of course, you don’t. It’ll be better for me from now on since I've had a breather. Honest. Just, just do it.”

So Spock did. Despite McCoy’s whimpering and moving as if trying to get away, Spock understood that it was all part of the process. He proceeded because that was what McCoy had told him to do. But Spock could not see how this was giving McCoy any of the delight he had been seeking.

It wasn’t. McCoy would not stop him, though, but it hurt so much.

And then a strange thing happened. The pain turned to pleasure and McCoy’s shuddering became passion. McCoy still gasped, but now it was with pleasure and not with revulsion of what was invading him.

When they both exploded with the glory of unimaginable joy cascading around them, McCoy finally experienced what it was to give and to accept the promises of love. And he felt complete and content once more. It had been so long since he had known such peace inside himself. So very, very long.

McCoy fell asleep with the pressure of Spock’s body encasing him and with his heart feeling at home at last.

Spock fell asleep, too. He was spent both physically and emotionally. All sorts of feelings had coursed through him after McCoy began enjoying himself and Spock had felt safe enough to surrender himself to instinct. 

Spock knew it would be a long time before he would be able to sort through all of the emotions he’d set free during their lovemaking. But now he must rest and consider the consequences of his actions at a later time.

 

They awoke at almost the same instant. They had not dozed for very long.

Spock still lay on his side, still spooning McCoy who was cradled in his arms. Despite his nap, McCoy was still tired and spent. But he was sated and blissfully happy. His grin was weary, but it lit up his eyes.

“Now, THAT’S what I was talking about! That’s what I was wanting! That was great!” McCoy lowered his head and kissed the green arm that was wrapped around his chest. “That was a great job!” He writhed happily. He couldn’t seem to stop smiling, nor did he want to. “I didn’t know that you had it in you, but I’m so glad that I found out differently!”

Spock had awakened with a new sense of appreciation for this creature who had submitted to him. He couldn’t believe his luck that he could do anything to McCoy and that McCoy would allow it. Spock hadn’t realized the value of all of that before, but now he was fascinated with the prospects of what might be open for him. Right now, he wanted to test his new entitlement. He wanted to see just how far McCoy would allow him to go with taking possession of him.

Spock snuggled his head into the space between McCoy’s shoulder and head. He gently kissed the space beneath McCoy’s ear where his jaw hinged together. 

“That’s nice,” McCoy mewed as he felt shivers of pleasure radiate around his throat.

Spock reached up, caught McCoy’s earlobe in his teeth, and gently scraped across that tender skin. That time, the shivers of pleasure which McCoy felt registered much lower than McCoy’s throat. Much, much lower.

“Hey. Watch it. Watch what you’re doing,” McCoy protested. “You’ll get me stirred up again.”

“Is that not the idea?” Spock murmured.

“Really? You could do it again?”

“I believe so.”

“What kinda super stud are you anyway?” McCoy asked with a frown. “I’m satisfied. Aren’t you?”

“The first time was for you. This time will be for me,” Spock murmured with closed eyes as he worked on McCoy’s neck again.

“Are you sure?” McCoy asked as he looked back at Spock.

“I am certain,” Spock answered as his lips honed in on McCoy’s mouth. He had to go by sound because he had his eyes were closed in passion. Spock was very sure that he wanted to go another round with McCoy. 

“Well, if you put it that way,” McCoy muttered, “who am I to argue?” Then he had to hang on because Spock was ready for action and McCoy wasn’t quite.

It’d been a pretty sloppy first kiss between them. And this second round of lovemaking had all the prospects of being pretty sloppy, too. The damn Vulcan was in too much of a hurry to have much finesse about what he was doing. There wouldn’t be any pauses while he checked on McCoy’s welfare. Not this time. McCoy would have to keep up or get lost underfoot. And McCoy was damned determined that he wouldn’t get lost in the dust.

Spock was rough and inept and impatient.

But that style had a lot to be said for it, too, McCoy decided as he hung on with determination.

In fact, he kinda liked it rough, because it had passion behind it.

 

“Well, that should’ve satisfied ten men, even one hot Vulcan,” McCoy muttered as he lay spent and trembling in Spock’s arms a while later. “I don’t know where you got all of your stamina to do what you just did. The first time was great, but this-- This was astounding. I didn’t know that I could be raised to such heights or experience things so completely. All I know is that you were fantastic, and you’ve gone far and beyond what I ever expected outa you.”

In the quiet that surrounded them, he thought back over the whole episode. “If I’d die tomorrow, it would be as a happy man. You made me feel things I never thought I’d feel again, and I want to thank you for all that you’ve done for me tonight. You were wonderful.” 

McCoy kissed the green arm that was draped around his body. The arm seemed lax and was not holding him as tightly as it had after their first time. McCoy shrugged. Well, that was okay. Maybe the Vulcan was tired. That was okay, too. He deserved his rest after what he had done for McCoy.

McCoy wiggled in the circle of Spock’s arms and went to sleep. He didn’t mind if Spock didn’t want to talk (although a few words of love would’ve been welcomed after what McCoy had done for him.) There would be time for talk in the morning. Or never, if that was what Spock wanted. 

For McCoy had been thoroughly sated, and his thirst to appease his lusts had been aptly quenched. It might take a long time for McCoy to want a repeat of this evening, if ever. His theory had been proven along with getting his appetites nicely banked. He was a happy, satisfied man.

It might’ve been nice, though, if Spock would’ve had something to say, some small praise would’ve been welcomed, some small word of thanks to have shown his gratitude.

Oh, well, McCoy thought, he was content with the crumbs he’d been handed. And what great crumbs they had been!


	8. Chapter 8

As Spock held McCoy gently against himself, he could tell that McCoy was surrendering to a restful slumber. He knew the moment that McCoy’s breath deepened and he descended into rem sleep. Spock knew it was time for him to leave McCoy’s bed and steal quietly back to his own. But still he lay with his arms around McCoy and cradled him warmly against himself. At least tomorrow McCoy would know what it was like to awaken from a refreshing sleep even if the one responsible for that experience was no longer with him.

For just a little while longer, though, Spock would hover over him. Spock was unaware of the pulse and throb of the Enterprise as it plowed its way through space, similar to the way Spock had recently plowed his own way through McCoy. Spock was unaware of the night crew guiding that mighty Starship on her important humanitarian mission. He thought about none of the other crewmen aboard who were resting for their upcoming shifts during the next day. None of those factors in his immediate environment even phased him.

For all that Spock was aware of was the sleeping man in his arms. He studied McCoy's every mew, his every muscular contraction, his every breath, his every contented shy. Spock cradled the sleeping man against himself and gently rubbed his fingers along that living arm beneath him. The universe was here, in his arms, with McCoy. That was all that he needed to know or even wanted to know.

When McCoy had yearned for some banal words of love after their intercourse, Spock had not been able to answer McCoy for a very good reason. He could not. And now, even though he cradled McCoy’s body and ran his fingers along that trusting arm beneath him, that was still all that he could do. Spock's mouth hung open for breathing and his eyes stared ahead into the soft darkness around their bed. But even though his eyes were open and staring, Spock was seeing nothing. His eyes were glassy and set and were working only because they were operating on automatic just as his shallow breathing was. And there was a good reason for Spock's numbness.

The second time for Spock and McCoy might have been astounding and fantastic for McCoy, but it had turned Spock’s world completely in on himself. As McCoy had writhed and whimpered beneath him, such a feeling, such a passion, such an ownership had swept over Spock that he knew he could never be contended without experiencing that feeling over and over again. With a fierceness of unknown gods storming Olympus, Spock had fallen in love with lust and sex and McCoy that night. And nothing would ever be right if he could not have them again all wrapped up in the gorgeous package known as Dr. Leonard McCoy.

But Spock also knew that McCoy was through with him. Spock had satisfied him too well so McCoy would not be interested in a further relationship. That was all that McCoy had wanted from Spock, so now McCoy was finished with him.

So Spock stared glassy-eyed into the dimness of the room while his hand slowly stroked the arm beneath him, savoring it while it was his to savor. And he realized how the residents of Olympus had felt when the walls of their castle had been breached and all was lost. Hope had been lost, too, that day. And without hope, life is not worth living. Or so it seemed for Spock.

 

When Spock awoke in his own bed the next morning, thankfully the hopelessness had been burned away in him. But it had been replaced by something almost as bad-- an overwhelming hunger for McCoy's body and a need to possess it again. All that Spock knew was that he wanted a repeat of that wonderful evening with Dr. McCoy, and he meant to have it.

That wasn’t saying, though, that Dr. McCoy felt likewise. In fact, in the following days McCoy was about as interested in sex with Spock as any happily pregnant female is that has no further use of the male of her species after the dastardly deed is successfully accomplished. And like any other male that suddenly feels abandoned and neglected, Spock felt adrift at McCoy’s lack of interest in him once more.

Spock should've been happy that McCoy hadn't been interested in devouring him after successful sex, as what happens to many hapless males after mating. Luckily for the troubled Spock, he did not even think of those prospects, let alone dwell on them.

McCoy seemed suddenly busy and missed a lot of meals with his friends. He rarely visited the Bridge as he generally did while on duty. And when McCoy was thrown together with Spock, he didn’t even want to participate in their usual banter. That alarmed Spock even more than the lack of sexual response from McCoy. Spock's routine was completely disrupted, and he missed McCoy more than he wanted to admit out loud.

But he promised himself that he would get McCoy interested in him again. He just had to think of a way.

 

“What’s the matter, Spock?” Kirk asked in the mess hall. “Lose your appetite?”

Spock pulled himself out of his mental fog and tried to concentrate on Kirk. “Captain?”

Kirk nodded at the bowl in front of Spock. “You’ve stirred those vegetables around so much that they are unidentifiable. Why, not even I would find them appetizing, and that’s saying a lot. It looks like the homemade wallpaper paste that my grandmother used to hang wallpaper out on the farm. You make the mistake of tasting that sort of thing only once, by the way. No way is it as good as vanilla pudding, even though it looks like it might be.”

Spock frowned at the lumpy, colorless mush he’d created. “A root vegetable stew seemed to be a good choice when I selected it. Ample fiber and nutritious vitamins and minerals sounded like a healthy choice. It does not seem to be as inviting as it once did, however.”

“Well, there’s a lot to be said for curb appeal, and that food doesn't have it anymore,” Kirk grunted. “And excuse me for saying it, but all you’ve got in your bowl now is an unappetizing mess. It’d make some jarred baby food look like a banquet fit for royalty.”

“You are right, Captain,” Spock said as he pushed the unappetizing meal aside. “I am not hungry anyway.”

“Yeah, but you gotta eat! You’ve been missing too many meals lately!”

“It heartens me that someone notices,” Spock replied, telling Kirk a quite literal truth. He missed McCoy's constant vigilance about his general wellbeing.

“Well, of course, I’ve noticed! Keep this up and I’ll have to report your lack of appetite to Dr. McCoy. You must be ailing."

“Please do not do that, Captain. I do not wish to disturb Dr. McCoy with… with whatever is important enough for him to miss partaking his meals with us anymore.” Then Spock’s face cleared as he sat up with interest. “Perhaps it might be wise if I do get medically evaluated by Dr. McCoy. I should report myself to sickbay, though. That would save some time then.” He jumped to his feet with more enthusiasm and speed than Kirk had seen out of him in several days.

“Now where are you headed?”

“Sickbay,” Spock answered with happiness dancing on his face.

“Do you have to go now?!”

“No time should be wasted to ward off a possible impending physical condition, do you not agree?”

“Well, yeah. But I don’t know if it’s any sort of emergency. After all, you jumped outa that chair like your ass was on fire. I’d forgotten that you could move that fast. I’m checking for smoke, but I don’t see any, though. I’d like to know the secret of that technique. Just imagine everyone on the Enterprise responding to my orders that quickly.”

Spock gave Kirk a condescending smile, which was rather a miracle in itself as Spock rarely smiled. Smiles on Spock succeeded as well as smiles on the actors Harrison Ford and Gary Cooper. They looked more like leers than anything happy or gentle.

“How droll, Captain. But I really must be on my way.”

Kirk just hoped that McCoy could help him. He’d been amazed at how Spock wanted to be helped by McCoy, though. Kirk decided that he must have used the magic words on the lethargic Vulcan.

Kirk had.

Dr. McCoy.

 

When the turbo lift door opened later, Kirk looked up to see Spock entering the bridge. “Glad that you’re back with us, Mr. Spock.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Spock muttered as he headed for his work station.

“Is anything wrong with you?” Kirk asked with a frown. “What did Dr. McCoy tell you?”

Spock stopped and looked at Kirk with a pained face. “What Dr. McCoy relayed to me cannot be repeated at the moment, Captain. There are ladies present within the reach of my voice.”

Kirk raised an eyebrow for a further explanation.

“I shall paraphrase loosely, Captain, when I relate that Dr. McCoy suggested quite broadly that I was being a laggard. He further promised that if I did not return to my work here on the bridge that he would make me wish that I had not bothered him by wasting his time with idle complaints. I believe that his remedy involved massive doses of castor oil which would occupy my idleness for the foreseeable future. He further hinted broadly that you would share in a similar regimen if you did not stop sending perfectly healthy people to him who would only succeed in cluttering up his sickbay and pull his attention from people who were genuinely needing his medical expertise.” He glanced at Kirk with a noncommittal look. “He seemed quite adamant about that last part, Captain.”

“Hmm. I see. Well, perhaps we should go by his recommendations then, shouldn’t we, Mr. Spock?”

“I find that to be quite astute on our part, Captain.”

“Then suppose we get back to our work, Mr. Spock, and leave Dr. McCoy to his. We are approaching an interesting planet, and I would like to have your report on incoming data about it.”

“At once, Captain,” Spock said smartly as he headed for his instruments. He would push aside his disappointing interview with McCoy in sickbay. Now he needed to perform at his top efficiency for his trusting Captain. After all, Kirk was depending on him.

At last, Kirk thought. We’re back to normal.

Wrong! He'd made that assumption too quickly, as he was about to learn.

 

Some minutes later, Spock gave his first analysis of the incoming information about the planet beginning to fill their forward viewing screen.

Kirk frowned. “Are you certain about that, Commander?”

Spock straightened. “Yes, Captain.”

“Mr. Spock, would you mind stepping over here, please?”

“Certainly, Captain.” Spock turned from his computer and joined Kirk at the command chair. “Yes, Captain?”

Kirk studied him for a moment, then motioned with his upraised fingers for him to come closer.

Spock bent down and spoke in a lowered voice, “Yes, Captain?”

“Would you care to rephrase that analysis that you just gave me about the size of that planet we are approaching?”

Spock frowned. “Sir?”

Kirk nodded toward the forward viewing screen, and Spock glanced over his shoulder so that he had the same view as Kirk. “Kind of fills the screen, doesn’t it? Reminds me of Mars because of its red color.”

“Yes, it does.”

“Big thing, too, wouldn’t you say? To the casual observer, I mean?”

“Looks like it,” Spock agreed. Whatever was Kirk’s point?

“Then why did you just inform me that it was roughly the size of a golf ball?”

Spock’s head shot around to Kirk. “Sir?!”

“You just gave me its dimensions in millimeters. A few millimeters.”

Spock blinked.

“Now… would you care to restate your report about the relative size of the planet which we are approaching?”

“Yes, Captain, I would. It appears that I misread my instruments. Or that they had a temporary malfunction.”

“Hmm. I figured as much. You may go back to your station, Commander.”

“Yes, Captain,” Spock said stiffly as he straightened.

Kirk’s eyes twinkled. “Oh, and… take another reading, won’t you? I believe that you will find that your instruments have probably corrected themselves.”

“Yes, Captain.” Spock marched away.

Uhura had her head bent over her radio, but was seated so that she was facing Scotty. As Spock passed behind her, Uhura glanced up sharply at Scotty with knowing eyes but without raising her head. Scotty sucked his breath in quickly and rolled his eyes. He and the wee lass had been right about Spock and McCoy. 

Scotty couldn’t believe that Mr. Spock had been tripped up by Cupid’s arrows, but the evidence was overwhelming. Cupid had taken on quite a challenge when it came to Spock and McCoy. But apparently the little mischief maker wasn’t losing his touch. Spock was a basket case.


	9. Chapter 9

Uhura set down her glass of juice and looked concerned across the mess hall at Spock eating a solitary meal by himself. “The poor lamb! Have you ever seen anyone look so lost? He needs some help.”

Hikaru Sulu glanced up from his breakfast plate, glanced Spock, and grinned. “Poor lamb, indeed! I wonder if Mr. Spock realizes that he is about to be adopted?”

“Ornery pup!” Uhura muttered as the three men with her gently chuckled at her mothering instincts.

“What do you propose to do about his plight, lass?” Scotty asked with a soft smile and a softer heart.

“It has to be something subtle, of course," Uhura said as her mind sorted through various options.

"Of course," Sulu mocked with sparkling eyes and twitching lips that could barely be controlled.

Uhura paid him no heed although her eyes rolled slightly toward him. Then she focused on her plans again. "I think I’ll throw a party,” Uhura answered slowly. "Yes, a party would do nicely."

“A party?” Chekov questioned as he looked up with interest. “I like parties,” he offered with enthusiasm.

“Everyone does,” Uhura agreed with a smile for him.

Chekov grinned back at her. He wanted to appear amiable so he would be invited. As if he wouldn’t get an invitation! Everyone liked the cheerful and somewhat naive Chekov. He brought out the parenting or older sibling instincts in just about everyone. Besides he was one of their group.

“Yes, a party is just what we need,” Uhura said absently as her agile mind continued with its plans. “Just a small affair in the day room. Drinks and dancing, nothing elaborate or really large. Just our shift’s bridge group.”

“And me, too, lass? How can you have a party without your own lovable Scotsman?” Scotty asked with a warm, flirty smile as he gazed fondly at her. Iron would have melted under that gaze. How then could Uhura possibly resist?

She smiled back with sparkling eyes. Such a charmer! And that Scottish burr! He sure knew how to use all of his natural wiles to his best advantage! “Well, of course, you are invited, Scotty! And the rest of your crew.” She grew thoughtful. “I can see that this is going to get out of hand.” She organized herself. “But it is doable. Even if everyone on our shift shows up, including the maintenance department and other people we rarely see. Oh, the nurses! They need to be invited.” Then she added, almost as if it was an afterthought, “And Dr. McCoy, of course.” 

“Of course,” Sulu agreed with dancing eyes. "After all, isn't that the whole reason behind this party? Getting him and Mr. Spock in the same room together?"

Chekov thought that Sulu was being quite daring, but wondered if Sulu would pay for his boldness with a sharp barb from Uhura’s lips.

But Uhura chose not to dignity his insolence with her own reply. Instead, she voiced a regret. “Too bad that Christine is gone on that away mission. She likes parties. And she’d love to witness this soap opera between Mr. Spock and Dr. McCoy, but this party can’t wait.”

“Better for me that she will be absent,” Scotty said as he leaned toward her. “You will be able to give me your full attention. And I want the first dance with you, lass.” His eyes twinkled with his clear devotion. “And the last.”

She smiled demurely at him.

“There’s more than one soap opera playing out on this Starship,” Sulu muttered, daring Uhura to contradict him.

Chekov quickly glanced at Uhura to see if she would take up the gauntlet tossed down by Sulu this time, but she had her mind elsewhere.

“Yes, a party is just what we need, alright,” she murmured instead.

“Just what the doctor ordered?” Sulu teased.

But Uhura hadn’t forgotten Sulu's other taunts. “Be careful, Hikaru, or I’ll accuse you of contributing to the delinquency of a minor!” she snapped back with crackling eyes. “After all, Pavel’s nearly young enough for that accusation to be true.”

Sulu roared with good-natured laughter and Chekov blushed a dark red. The youngster glanced at Sulu with shy, adoring eyes. Sulu gave Chekov a possessive, but loving smile back. If anybody hadn’t guessed about their relationship before, ample proof was in front of everyone now.

Scotty rolled his eyes uneasily, as if he wanted to say “Tsk-Tsk!” to Uhura and Sulu for their brazenness, but thought better of it. He didn’t want to ruin the enthusiasm for the coming party or the camaraderie among this group of close friends.

 

On the evening of the party, Spock entered the day room and looked around at the group of cozy party-goers milling around, talking to each other, sipping drinks, and nibbling finger foods. Some couples were even dancing together to taped music.

Spock's eyes quickly located McCoy standing off to the side, quietly nursing some sort of dark liquid drink. The sight gladdened his soul. His heart urged him toward McCoy, but his mind advocated his staying where he was. It was enough that McCoy was in the same room with him.

“Mr. Spock,” Uhura greeted. "So glad that you could make it."

Spock's eyes settled on his hostess as she approached him. It was evident that she was well past her first alcoholic drink. The ever faithful Scotty trailed after her. He was bemused by her ill-hidden nervousness over her attempt at matchmaking, but dedicated to protecting her. Her heart was in the right place, but she might have taken on too big a project this time.

From the corners of his eyes, Spock watched to see if McCoy would note the arrival of a new guest. McCoy did as his eyes swung up, then narrowed as he recognized Spock. That was enough, too. Spock knew that he had McCoy's attention.

Spock offered her a soft, personal smile. “Thank you for inviting me, Lieutenant.” He nodded at Scotty who nodded back.

“Nyota, please. We’re off duty now.”

Spock's smile deepened with a little more personal warmth. “Of course.”

Seeing that she was not going to get anything more from him, she quickly added, “Help yourself to a drink, Commander.”

“Thank you, but no.” He glanced around again. “Where is Captain Kirk? I wished to have a word with him.” Spock had planned to attach himself to Kirk and be a hanger-on to the group of admirers that generally formed around Kirk. Then Spock could be present at the party-- but not active-- while he discreetly watched McCoy.

“He’s been delayed,” Uhura explained. "Must you always be thinking about business, Mr. Spock?" She was slightly aggravated that Spock intended to go into hiding at a social event again. “Get yourself a drink and we’ll get better acquainted,” she suggested in a breathy voice as she suddenly leaned closer and brushed up against Spock. What the hell, she thought. Might as well give it a shot. Let's see if the Vulcan has nerve endings.

Spock recoiled as if he’d been shocked with a cattle prod. His mouth dropped open in surprise.

Scotty narrowed his eyes at Uhura’s brazenness. The wee lass was generally not this forward with her flirting. Maybe she was trying to make Scotty jealous. If she was, she was succeeding nicely. Or maybe she was trying to make someone else jealous. Scotty swung his eyes around to the other party-goers. Sure enough, McCoy was taking in the whole shabby performance of Uhura’s making an open play for Spock. And the scenario seemed not to be setting too well with the good doctor.

McCoy’s eyes narrowed as he absently raised his drink to his lips, then he lowered it slowly without drinking anything from it. A man might slug another man for trying to steal a love interest from him. But McCoy would never hit a woman for any reason, especially a Southern gentleman like McCoy. No, McCoy would do something else. And he did.

McCoy set down his drink and approached the threesome. “Mr. Spock doesn’t drink alcohol beverages, Nyota. You’d be wasting good booze on him.”

“Too bad,” Uhura purred as she untangled herself from Spock. “I bet Mr. Spock might amaze us if he ever loosened up his inhibitions and had a little fun, though.”

“He is having fun, Nyota. Can’t you tell by his jolly grin and sparkling wit?” McCoy teased, but everyone heard the bite of acid in his thinly veiled words. He might be teasing a slightly tipsy Uhura, but he was slamming Spock. And there was no mirth in his intent.

“Well, then,” Uhura started, determined to save the situation, “if you’re not drinking, Mr. Spock, why don’t you two dance together?” She glanced at a nearby couple on the floor, and the eyes of the others followed her. “Hakiru and Pavel are already dancing, and I don’t want you guys standing here all alone. I promised this one to Scotty, if he’ll be a gentleman and honor his previous commitment to me.” She batted her dark eyes at the Scot, and he was lost.

Scotty’s eyes shone with delight.

So did Spock’s as he realized how cleverly that Uhura had maneuvered McCoy into his arms again.

McCoy realized it, too, but he bowed gallantly to Uhura with a tolerant smile.

“I never contradict a beautiful lady, nor do I deny a request from one,” McCoy graciously conceded to her. 

Uhura lowered her eyes demurely, and McCoy swore that he could almost see the invisible fan she practically fluttered in front of her face in true Southern belle fashion.

McCoy smiled softly. “And may I add that the lady is not only beautiful, but quite clever as well.”

Her eyes came up shyly to meet his, and McCoy was transported back to Georgia and the Governor’s Cotillion. “Why, thank you, kind sir. You do flatter me.”

McCoy grinned broadly at her and was so momentarily lost in her charm that he forgot everyone else in the room. So did she.

Scotty took her elbow to lead her away. “Come on, lass. Let us leave these gentlemen alone.”

Uhura seemed to awaken from a dream and smiled up at the Scotsman. She was so happy to see that Scotty was with her.

And that made Scotty happy, too.


	10. Chapter 10

Spock and McCoy watched Scotty and Uhura dance away with the others.

“Lovely couple,” McCoy muttered, still observing them.

“Quite so,” Spock agreed, intrigued with the handsome twosome, also.

“She got a little off-script right there at the end, though,” McCoy remarked with a bored sigh.

“Doctor?”

McCoy glanced at Spock with a wry, ironic smile. “People do that when they’re trying too hard. And she was drinking a little too fast to keep sober, but she was worried about something. And she had good reason to be worried. She was wondering when you were going to show up. Or even if.”

“Doctor?” Spock repeated, but this time with a deepening frown. Whatever was McCoy talking about?

McCoy gave Spock an amiable look. “Do you have the feeling that we are the objects of matchmakers?” McCoy muttered. “Bad matchmakers?”

Spock's face cleared with understanding. Of course! It all made sense! Spock felt a flash of genuine love and friendship for his Earthling friends on the crew. They were obviously trying to help him.

“Perhaps they thought that cleverness would not work with us,” Spock offered.

“And they thought that sloppiness would?!” McCoy snorted.

“We are standing here together, are we not, just as they wished?” Spock was feeling pretty smug about the situation. Time and circumstance were on his side. McCoy was on the defensive.

“And looking more stupid by the minute. Come on, Commander, let’s dance together and get it over with, so they can feel like they’ve succeeded with their little plot. We can straighten them out later.”

“I will not dance with you if you are going to act like that, Doctor,” Spock sniffed haughtily.

McCoy was stunned. “You are going to act like a prima donna?!”

The other dancers glanced at them and nearly stopped to watch. They didn't have to strain to hear. McCoy was loud enough.

“Ask me to dance, damn it!” McCoy ordered in a harsh whisper. “Stop making a scene!”

Spock wanted to point out that McCoy was the one making a scene, but wisely decided that McCoy was in no mood for logic, even though Spock was right. Instead, Spock held out his arms and McCoy walked into them.

McCoy was prepared to be a stiff, unresponsive partner for Spock, but he was amazed how quickly he felt himself relax and fit into the shape of Spock's arms. This felt... good! Then he reprimanded himself. He shouldn't be enjoying this closeness, this perfect snugness, so much. But he fit against Spock so well. Just like another part of Spock had recently fit inside McCoy exactly right. It had been as if they were made for each other. There had been just the right amount of fullness then, a fullness that McCoy now ached to feel inside himself again. And the wonderful part of Spock that had fit so snugly inside McCoy was now just inches... away... from McCoy's... hand....

No! He shouldn't be having these thoughts! He shouldn't be remembering those feelings! He had to get out of here!

Then two things caused him to forget his resolve, and he melted almost immediately. One was the fact that Spock’s arms felt so good around him. The other was the words to the song that the vocalist was singing on the tape.

“Now I’ve had the time of my life  
No, I never felt like this before  
Yes, I swear it’s the truth  
And I owe it all to you.”

But even when the tempo of the song speeded up, all of the couples continued to dance slowly. They weren’t there to follow the music so much as they were to have a reason to have their arms around each other.

Feeling a little embarrassed because he knew the song lyrics that were coming, McCoy looked nervously at Spock.

“Do you cha cha, Mr. Spock?” McCoy inquired with a flushed face. Dancing fast would make them concentrate on something besides lyrics.

“I prefer to dance slowly, Doctor.”

There was nothing left to do but let the song lyrics wash over them.

“You’re the one thing  
I can’t get enough of.”

Please don’t be listening too closely, McCoy silently begged. But, of course he knew that Spock was. Just as he knew that Spock knew that he was listening to the lyrics, too.

“With my body and my soul  
I want you more than you will ever know.”

McCoy swallowed hard. Would this never end?! The personal lyrics? The growing awareness of Spock’s body? The need to go somewhere quiet and dark, as long as he was with Spock?

Then, blessedly, the song did change to something else, something nondescript, something that did not apply so personally to them. And McCoy could breathe again.

Spock seemed to realize that something had changed, too. He wanted to bring back the other mood.

“I am happy that you are here this evening, Doctor.”

McCoy breathed deeply with the introduction of a safe topic, and he felt more sure of himself. He wasn’t at a disadvantage anymore. “Well, I couldn’t disappoint Uhura now, could I?” he snapped, perhaps rougher than he had intended.

Spock felt the full force of that blow. “And you would not have shown up for me?” 

McCoy glanced up and saw that Spock’s heart was in his dark eyes. It was obvious that Spock was falling more in love the longer that they danced together. But it was also plain to see that Spock’s heart was breaking with McCoy’s callousness, a callousness that was suddenly becoming harder for McCoy to maintain. He had a conscience after all, and he had to steel himself for what he had to say. It would be best for both of them if he did not allow this charade to go any further.

“Don’t go making more outa this dance than what it really is.” For some reason, this next part was really going to hurt to say. “The same goes for what happened between us the other night.”

Spock frowned. “You mean--”

“I mean that we were just letting off steam. Friends with benefits for one night, if you will.”

“I thought that it had been more important to you than that.”

“You thought wrong!” McCoy snapped. That had come out harsher than he’d intended, too, but maybe it was for the best. Spock might as well get any romantic notions out of his head right now. It’d be better for him in the long run if he kept himself from compromising his emotions any further. 

Spock stopped dancing as his frown deepened. “You mean--”

“I mean that I’ve stayed too long at the dance,” McCoy muttered. How corny could he be by quoting another old song?!

But McCoy could tell by Spock’s stunned face that Spock finally seemed to understand better what he meant when he used the quote.

"No, I've got that wrong, don't I?" McCoy asked softly. "It's actually your song. And you really should be giving up on anything more happening between us."

Then McCoy broke out of the arms that had been holding him so nicely and fled toward the door.

"Doctor--"

It was for the best, McCoy reminded himself again. It was kinder this way. Then why did he feel like he was being such an asshole? It wasn’t like he was tearing wings off defenseless butterflies or anything cruel like that, damn it!

At that moment Jim Kirk appeared in the doorway of the day room, and the scene before him seemed surreal. He saw couples dancing slowly to music that really wasn’t slow. But what drew his attention as it did the attention of others was Spock standing still with upraised hand and watching in shock as a grim-faced McCoy stalked away from him. It was a tableau that seemed frozen in time, although Kirk realized that McCoy and others were moving. But for one magic moment, all motion stopped. Then everything kicked into action again as McCoy thundered past Kirk.

Kirk had stepped aside to allow McCoy to leave. Kirk had the feeling that McCoy hadn’t even been aware of his appearance. Neither did Spock for that matter, either.

What the hell had been going on in here, Kirk wondered. Why did Uhura look as stricken as Spock did? At least, though, she seemed to have someone who was consoling her as Scotty hovered close to her with concern on his face. But why did the other dancers seem to be swaying to music they were not even aware of?

Something momentous had obviously just happened, and Kirk had to admit that he’d like to know what it had been. But common sense and instinct told him that as long as he had not been sucked into the tornado that surrounded Spock and McCoy, he was wise not to get involved.

In fact, he wasn’t even going to ask.

 

Well, McCoy got his wish for a quiet, dark spot. Trouble was, he was there by himself, and it was his own damn fault. What a helluva mess!

He even knew what was wrong with his original plan. It was supposed to relieve tension created by their bickering. Trouble was, he'd rushed things by picking fights and goading Spock, instead of letting their bickering happen naturally. By the time Spock had sought him out, Spock had been driven there by a simmering anger that he did not know how to handle. Even McCoy had not been in the proper frame of mind for sex. Instead of being frustrated by bickering, McCoy had been smug about his success in manipulating Spock. No wonder that their intercourse had been so unsatisfying, even though McCoy had thought differently at the time. But of course, he'd been thinking with his asshole and not with his heart.

Then, to top it off, an emotionally compromised Spock had fallen in lust with him. But McCoy had repulsed him. And now McCoy wished that he had not been so cavalier to Spock's advances. But after the scene at the party, Spock surely would not want to have anything more to do with him. And for Spock's best interests, it would be better to keep a distance in their relationship.

But, oh, McCoy knew that it would hurt him.


	11. Chapter 11

McCoy plowed through the next few days, not really caring what happened to him. Oh, he did his job and talked to people. He ate his meals and ran sickbay during his shift. But all the while it seemed like he was watching a robot going through the motions of Leonard McCoy's life. Joy had left him, and he did not know if he would ever be able to find it back. He did not know if he even deserved any happiness in his life ever again, since he was responsible for killing it for someone else.

He decided to bury himself in work. That had always been his balm before, during those other times when he had given up on Life as he did now.

 

But Life had not given up on Leonard McCoy. Neither had Fate. And neither had one stubborn Vulcan named Spock nor one disgruntled Starfleet captain who wanted his First Officer back to working at his usual top efficiency.

“Are you back in here again, Commander?” McCoy wanted to know as he looked up from his computer screen in his sickbay office. He didn't want to do this. He didn't want to have this scene. But it looked like it was going to have to play out, whether Leonard McCoy wanted it to or not. He had to admire Spock for his determination, but there was something sad about it, too. Spock was just so guileless that he didn't know what else to do but to keep persevering. McCoy's heart broke for him, but at the same time McCoy knew that he shouldn't show any weakness and thereby give Spock any false hope. It would be kinder to Spock if McCoy stayed vigilant about his own resolve. It would be better for both of them.

"Well?" McCoy prompted with a strength that he really didn't feel but knew he must demonstrate.

Spock stood with his hands behind his back and his eyes focused on a point a few inches above McCoy’s head. “Yes, Doctor, it appears that I am.”

McCoy bit his lips together. "Why?" He knew that Spock did not intend to sound smarty or disrespectful; Spock was just stating a fact. He probably wondered why McCoy was questioning the obvious.

“Pardon?” Spock asked as he shifted his eyes lower so that he was almost looking into McCoy’s eyes.

“Why are you back in my sickbay again? Have you developed a sudden craving for castor oil?”

Spock raised his eyes again. “No, Doctor, I have not.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Captain Kirk seems to be under the impression that there must still be something wrong with me and has broadly suggested that some physical ailment is strongly interfering with my work. According to him, I am not operating at peak efficiency while at my duties on the Bridge. It is his conclusion that more needs to be done, because, according to him, 'The cure didn't appear to work the first time I sent you to sickbay.' He says that I need to be studied personally by my physician, so here I am. He has also stated that he wants more positive results this time.”

“Oh, he has, has he? Did you relate to him that I will also recommend a strong dosage of castor oil for him if he starts practicing medicine without a license?”

"He realizes the consequences of further action on his part in regards to me. I also believe that he is well aware that the consequences have not changed from the first time he sent me to see you."

"That's not good enough! I want him to stop abetting your delusions."

Spock looked straight into McCoy’s eyes. His pain and puzzlement were clearly evident. “How can my new feelings for you be considered delusional? Can it be wrong of me to wish to explore these feelings?”

Oh, hell, McCoy thought. It wasn't supposed to end this way, not with Spock getting hurt. It was just supposed to be a quick roll in the hay, some heavy panting, some slick body sweat, some grunting as their bodies joined in animal lust. Nothing serious. Just a mutual release of tensions. Some bruises, some exploring hands, some building of sexual pressures, then a mighty explosion between them to relieve that primitive tension they'd created in each other, then slinking away to sleep it all off.

Casual sex. Meant to get a guy's rocks off without any kind of commitment. That sort of thing had not changed since the beginning of Time. Ram bam thank you mam. Exit stage left. Guys were supposed to love it.

The end.

Except it had not been the end. Not for Spock. And now he was getting hurt. And it was McCoy's fault.

"Of course it's not wrong of you to want to explore your feelings for me," McCoy floundered, trying to make amends. "It's just that it isn't a good thing for you to do so."

Spock looked confused. "I do not understand."

"I know you don't. I know that you haven't understood this whole mess. And it's no wonder. It didn't make a whole lot of sense, now that I've thought about it. It was just a quick solution of a problem that I should've kept to myself."

"You are saying then that it was not logical," Spock mumbled, struggling to make sense of McCoy's explanation.

"It wasn't meant to be logical. It didn't have a damn thing to do with logic."

"In that, you succeeded, Doctor."

McCoy smirked. "Yeah, I succeeded in something at least." He turned away with a sigh. "Look, it was a stupid idea. I should’ve never dragged you into something like that just because I took a wild notion to grab onto something that I thought I wanted.”

Spock's eyes lit up. "You wanted me?"

Damn! Tripped up by his own words! But what if it was the real truth and he hadn't realized it? Because if what McCoy had just said was a Freudian Slip, it was a doozy.

"Look. This is all wrong," McCoy tried to explain. "I should've never started this whole thing. Just, just forget it."

Spock frowned. “You can start relationships and then dictate when they are finished? That is how relationships work?”

"Of course not," McCoy muttered with a sigh. "Both parties are equal."

"That is not what you just said," Spock said suspiciously.

"I know, I know. It's just the way I'd like to handle the situation now that I'm backed into a corner. I'd like to forget all about using you the way I did. I'd like to forget that I hurt you... afterwards, after the sex that I thought would solve all the problems. It just created a different one. I'd just like to have it all go away and be forgotten... for my own comfort." McCoy glanced back with a mirthless grin. “That makes me a pretty selfish bastard, doesn’t it?”

“Excuse me, Doctor, but there is nothing pretty about any of it.”

McCoy felt his old, short-tempered reaction of lashing out at Spock’s misunderstanding of what he’d said. But this time, McCoy managed to hold his irritation in check. Instead, he said, “I’m sorry about that, too.” It was amazing how good that admission made McCoy feel. In fact, he felt lighter than he had in a long time. Perhaps it was wrong to challenge the content of everything that Spock said. Maybe he should just go along with what Spock meant. Of course, it would be nice if Spock did likewise, but maybe they could work on that project at some future time. Baby steps.

Baby steps and compromises were needed. After all, McCoy did not want to lose Spock’s friendship. He’d jeopardized their good relationship with a crazy idea. Now it was time to heal in a different way than medical school had ever taught him.

"You're right. It's pretty ugly, in fact." He gave Spock a slapdash grin. "That's an oxymoron, by the way. Like known secret. Or awfully nice. Pretty ugly. Get it? Pairs of words like that which are opposite of each other, but appear in ordinary speech." McCoy began to feel as stupid as what he was saying. Spock was clearly not amused. "Hey, this is funny stuff."

"I am happy that you believe so."

"Odd, but I really don't feel like laughing myself." He grimaced. "Look, this isn't doing either of us any good. Just... just go away."

Some light went out of Spock's eyes and he turned for the door without another word.

McCoy knew that he wouldn't be back. A world without Spock in it. HIS world without Spock in it.

No!

"Wait," McCoy said in a soft voice. "Please. Please don't go. Not like this."

Spock looked back with wary, noncommittal eyes. He was past begging and offering logical arguments. He had humbled himself, but he was finished with all of that now.

McCoy pulled himself to his feet. “Look, I, ah, I’m... sorry…. Sorry for this whole mess."

Spock could see that McCoy was contrite and willing to make amends.

McCoy tried to wash his face of all but his earnestness. "I hope you can eventually forgive me.”

Spock could accept that. “Of course, Doctor.”

McCoy looked up in surprise as a weight was lifted off his chest. “It was that simple? I don’t have to eat worms or do a double-dog dare?”

Spock looked mellow. “Now you are teasing me, are you not?”

McCoy turned away. “Yeah, I guess I am. I’m just trying to take some of the tension outa this situation by letting humor hide how really important this is.” He looked back at Spock. “And it is important to me.”

“I know.”

McCoy let out a relieved breath.

“And it is important to me, too, Doctor.”

“I know. So we can go back to the way things were before... well, you know…” McCoy shrugged. “...that night?”

“No, Doctor, we cannot.”

McCoy frowned. “Eh?”

“That night happened.”

McCoy’s frown deepened.

“And something happened to me.”

“I... I’m sorry.”

“And I want to explore it.”

McCoy grimaced. They had circled around to where they had started. But Spock seemed different this time, as if he believed that he was in an equal relationship.

“And I want to explore the feelings I felt," Spock continued. "I found that acknowledging my feelings was not as bad as I always thought it would be. And I am appreciative that you helped me with that discovery.”

It was then that McCoy really understood. He had made the Vulcan FEEL something-- be it love or lust or wanting-- and that gave McCoy a very important responsibility. Spock trusted him with the feelings that the doctor had helped him to uncover. McCoy did not want to make Spock regret that he had felt those feelings or that he had shared that secret with McCoy.

Besides, the further exploration of an intimate relationship with this close friend of McCoy’s might not be such a bad thing now that he reconsidered it. It might even prove to be more satisfying than an occasional bout of sex to relieve sexual tensions.

McCoy gave Spock a gentle, sincere smile. “I think that’s commendable, Mr. Spock. How do you propose that we proceed?”

“By being good to each other.”

McCoy’s smile deepened. The Vulcan wasn't as naïve about relationships as McCoy had always supposed. “I think that’s a very good idea. And how should we do that?”

“By sharing an expression of our newfound devotion.” He raised two fingers. “Touching me with two of your fingers will give me infinite pleasure.”

“Like this?” McCoy asked as he complied.

Spock looked quite content as their fingers maintained contact. “Yes, thank you. That is quite fulfilling.” He stepped closer to McCoy and held out his arms. “And I know what token will give you pleasure.”

“You’re sure?”

“I wish to make you happy, Doctor.”

“You already have,” McCoy murmured as he stepped forward into the sturdy arms and the soft lips that were waiting for him.

"That's just as good as I remember," McCoy murmured a few moments later as his hands messed with the collar of Spock's tunic as if he wished Spock was rid of it and the rest of his clothing. He looked up into Spock's eyes with excitement reflected in his own and voiced what was in his heart. "And I can hardly wait until I can get the other again, too." He shrugged, embarrassed, hoping against hope that he was still entitled to get that magical 'other' that only Spock could give him. "You know, the other that you, ah, shared with me that night."

Bless his heart, Spock was not vindictive. He gently kissed McCoy's temple and closed his eyes to contain his own eagerness. "Then you shall have it, Leonard, just as long as I am able to provide it."

"That long, eh?" McCoy asked with a nervous grin, marveling at the mass of sexual energy he could feel quivering and barely contained in his arms. How awe-inspiring it was for him to realize that he had stirred such emotions in a being who fought his ancient heritage, yet was willingly descending into those emotions for him.

McCoy idly wondered what emotions that Spock, a touch telepath, was picking up from him. Then he grinned to himself. Maybe that was one reason why Spock was trembling.

Thus reassured, McCoy felt brave enough to say, "I didn't know for sure if I still deserved any more than an occasional teasing kiss from you."

Despite the passion coursing through him, Spock drew himself up. "I will not deprive myself just to teach you a lesson. I may adhere to strict disciplines for myself, but I am no masochist. I find that I quite like giving into my feelings so that I can worship your body properly. You may even find that I may eventually become quite a sensualist while we are engaged in intimate relations."

McCoy felt a heartbeat in his neck and his eyes burned into Spock's. "Just so you turn me into quite a sensualist while you're at it!"

Spock drew back and gave him a fond appraising look. "I believe that I can do that."

"Damned sure of yourself, ain't you?!" McCoy wanted to know. Spock was learning. He wasn't going to be a pushover anymore. Dang if McCoy didn't like him better this way!

"With you to inspire me, how else can I be?" Spock answered gallantly and gave McCoy yet another side of this new relationship.

"It's gonna be a contest between us every day, isn't it?" His words sounded harsh, but McCoy's voice was soft and glad. Spock's words and the feel of his body were just making McCoy melt all over the place. It all just kept getting better, the more that McCoy heard. And felt.

"I hope that it is many things for us. But I mainly hope that I will see every day with you. And every night, too."

McCoy found that he couldn't keep the happy grin wiped off his face. "I suppose you're gonna say romantic mush like that all the time, ain't you?"

"That is a solemn promise, Doctor," Spock vowed. Then he gave McCoy a sample of what he was in store for. His hands were all over McCoy, exciting him and making him ache for more. McCoy loved that glimpse, but knew they shouldn't go too far. Not now. Not here. Because, well, hell, they were still in sickbay. And Chapel and the others were just on the other side of McCoy's office door.

Then McCoy reconsidered. That was a pretty sturdy door. The office might even be soundproof-- if they were careful.

Spock's eyes twinkled with the grin he was feeling. It was almost as if he had read McCoy's mind.

 

A while later, they emerged from McCoy’s office.

“Chapel, I’m leaving for the day. Shift is about over anyway. Think you can handle things?”

“Of course, Doctor,” Chapel answered efficiently.

“Good, good.” He glanced at Spock and seemed to melt. “Come on, Commander. I think you’ll find this conclusion interesting that I’ve, ah, deduced.”

“I will be most interested in learning your theories, and your deductions,” Spock answered, playing along.

The door out of sickbay closed on them, and they were gone.

Chapel frowned. What the hell was that line of gibberish that McCoy had muttered and that Spock had answered back? It was like they were not really conscious of what was coming out of their mouths. In fact, they had seemed to be studying each other's mouth as if mouths were more important than what was being said.

Chapel's eyebrow arched while an ironic smile crossed her lips. So, the scuttlebutt was true. Those two were so doing it. And, dang, they were cute! It kinda made a girl believe in love again. 

She turned away with a sigh and made sickbay shipshape before the next shift reported for duty.

 

The next morning Spock and McCoy sat together and across from Jim Kirk as they ate hearty breakfasts in the mess hall. Kirk was amazed at how animated they were and with how they were woofing down their food. It almost put Kirk off his feed.

But not quite.

“You gentlemen seem to be very happy this morning,” Kirk ventured.

“Why shouldn’t we be?” McCoy answered back. “The universe is a beautiful place and we’re part of it.”

Kirk grinned. “How positive you sound, Bones.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” He glanced at Spock with a soft look. “It’s great to be alive.”

“And do you feel as exuberant as Dr. McCoy, Mr. Spock?”

Spock looked at Kirk. “I find that Dr. McCoy’s positive attitude is quite contagious, Captain.”

“Good, good. A happy crew is a happy ship, and a happy ship means a successful mission.”

Spock frowned. “I am not quite certain about that, Captain. Happiness cannot guarantee success in anything. It may facilitate some sense of ease during the passage, but the end results cannot be influenced by the attitude of the crew. I would be more inclined to rely on a ship that is operating at top efficiency than I would in any emotional well-being of its crew.”

“It’s just Jim’s way of stating something, you nitpicker!” McCoy declared with his hand upraised to make his point. Fire was flying from his eyes. “Go for the spirit of what he’s saying! Stop being so literal!”

“It’s okay, Bones, you don’t need to--”

“Excuse me, Captain, but I cannot allow a challenge about a supposed laxity in my language patterns to go unanswered. Doctor," Spock said turning to McCoy, "I believe you will find if you will take the time to reexamine the facts that--”

Sexual passion flashed through McCoy as he sputtered to answer. “Facts?! Facts?! When have you ever troubled yourself to face facts?!”

“All of the time, Doctor,” Spock answered softly as his eyes did everything but caress the excited McCoy, and his words appeared to be answering a different question. “All of the time.”

Time seemed to slow up as McCoy stared at Spock. Then he grinned as if they were the only two beings in the universe. “You might be right at that.”

“And you may be correct, also, Doctor,” Spoke answered, returning McCoy's promise.

Their eyes twinkled in their shared glance, and they shifted slightly as their touching legs moved gently against each other. They were in their own private world.

Kirk noticed their withdrawal and momentary truce. Experience had taught him that might not last long, though, even if something was going on with them personally as it seemed to be at the moment. Such fluctuations in their relationship! He had to admit to a certain amount of curiosity about their relationship status, but their uneasy peace was more important to him.

Kirk might be curious about their real story, but sometimes it was better to leave well enough alone. That was always a safer path when working with those two.

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing of Star Trek, its characters, and/or its story lines.


End file.
